


Brother Talk

by evilwriter37



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Mark of Cain, Nightmares, SON OF A BITCH, Sam ships Destiel, as sam points out, at 4 am, brother moment, call him, cas, dammit, just do it, make a move
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8563228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Dean has a nightmare about killing Cas.





	

There was blood smeared across Dean's knuckles, on his face, droplets of it on his clothes. It wasn't his own, rather, the angel's that he had pinned to the floor beneath him with his knees.

"Oh, Dean." Castiel's voice was weak, tormented, the words leaving bloodied lips. That was Dean's fault. But it was also Cas' fault. He could have just left well enough alone instead of trying to stop him.

All Dean could do was growl in response as he reached inside Cas' coat for the angel blade he kept in the inner pocket. Anger like he'd never felt before flared through him. Pure, white-hot rage. It was horrible. It was amazing.

The cold hilt of the blade felt so welcoming in his hand as he withdrew it from Cas' coat and raised it. The angel didn't close his eyes or otherwise brace himself for the death blow. The blue eyes staring back at him weren't terrified or frantic: just sad. So, so sad. 

That didn't stop Dean. Nothing could stop Dean. With a shout of fury, he stabbed the blade downwards.

 

 

" _No!_ "

Dean thrashed and kicked himself awake, struggling against something that was twined too tightly around his body.

"No, no! _Cas!_ "

He only now realized that he was screaming, and that the thing wrapped around him that he was fighting so viciously against was his blankets. He halted his movements, gasping for breath.

Running footsteps came from down the hall, along with his brother calling his name. That's all the warning he was given before his door was slammed open.

"Dean?" Sam questioned, stepping into the dark room.

"Nightmare," Dean grumbled. He fumbled around, trying to free himself from his blankets. He only sort of managed it, but was able to lean over and turn on the lamp beside his bed. He rubbed a hand over his face, through his hair. It came back damp with sweat.

He craned his head from where he was on his side to look at Sam in the doorway. Still not fully awake and trying to figure out what was going on, all he had to say was: "You got here fast."

Sam rolled his eyes a little. "Dude, I'm like, three doors down from you. Besides, I'm not gonna trudge when I hear you screaming."

"Yeah, well uh, thanks." He laid himself back down, shaking, stomach twisting. To top that off, he also felt embarrassed that his little brother had come running into his room, probably assuming there was something attacking him, only to have saved him from a nightmare. It was just great.

There was silence for a few moments, and Sam was still standing in the room.

Dean didn't even bother looking at him when he spoke. "What the hell are you still doing here? It was just a bad dream."

"What about?"

"Can we not get all feely at three in the morning, please? Just go back to sleep."

Another silence, then Sam clearing his throat.

"Actually, it's, um, around four."

"Okay, what is it?" Dean growled, really not in the mood. He just wanted to be left alone to recuperate after that horrifying dream. Damn, did his subconscious like torturing him lately.

"You keep having nightmares," Sam stated. 

"Yeah," Dean admitted though it wasn't a question, sitting up. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. They ached like he hadn’t slept.

"About the Mark?" Sam came over and gingerly sat on the edge of his bed. Dean's more open body language had given him permission to do so.

Dean groaned tiredly and nodded. He lowered his hands and lifted his head. There was a wetness on his cheeks and palms. He hoped it was sweat rather than tears, but the way his nose was stuffed up said otherwise.

"Sorry to wake you, Sammy."

"This is hardly the first time I've run into your room because you were screaming," Sam told him with a frown. "This is just the first time you woke up."

"Oh." Dean didn't know what to say to that. His other nightmares had caused him to scream loud enough to wake Sam?

_Whoops. Don't I feel like a five year old._

"You, um, cried out for Cas this time."

"Yeah, and?" Dean had let Sam sit on his bed, though he still didn't really want to talk about it. He didn't even want to think about it. Doing so just brought an ache to his chest and throat, the threat of more tears. He remembered the way he'd stabbed downwards, the bright flash of light...

 _Get it together, Dean!_ He berated himself. _That's not how it happened. Cas is alive. He's fine._

"So... what happened?" Sam's face was set in both concern and curiosity.

"Nothing," Dean grumbled. He rubbed at his face again, tried pulling himself together.

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, sure, Dean."

"Why does this matter so much to you?" Dean half-moaned, lowering his hands to his lap and directing his attention to his blanket.

"'Cause it's clearly bothering you," Sam replied.

"Okay, fine." He couldn't look at him though, and he only mumbled out his next words. "I killed Cas."

"What?"

"I _killed_ Cas," Dean repeated, louder this time. His chest hurt more when he said it. 

Sam didn't respond immediately, and the silence was filled with a strange tension.

"Dean, it was just a dream. That would never happen."

"Yeah? I almost killed you."

 _And Cas too._ But as far as he knew Sam didn't know about that. It didn't seem like Cas had told him and he himself certainly hadn't. He'd just barely missed stabbing the blade into his face, barely had the control to make himself change the direction of the blow. But in his dream, he hadn't. He'd stabbed straight down and ended him.

"You were a pretty pissed off demon at the time. I can see why you-"

"No, Sam," Dean cut him off. "I had a nightmare about killing Cas 'cause I almost killed him a couple weeks ago."

"You... What?" It seemed Sam had started speaking before fully comprehending Dean's words.

"I almost killed him." Dean's words were choked, and he inwardly cursed the show of emotion. He still didn't look at Sam, but he held up his right hand and held his index finger and thumb close together, almost touching. "I was this close. I was about to stab him in the face with his own angel blade but I had just enough me left to just stab it into the floor."

"Dean, I... He didn't tell me. _You_ didn't tell me. Why?" Sam sounded a little betrayed. Of course he was. It was kind of a big thing to not tell your little brother that you almost killed their best friend.

"I couldn't," Dean answered honestly. He felt on the verge of a sob and, son of a bitch, those were tears running down his face. He didn't want to draw attention to them, but he didn't want them to be there either, so he lifted his arm and wiped at them with his sleeve.

"I-I almost did it, Sammy!" He spluttered, suddenly losing it for some reason. He'd opened his mouth to take a deep breath and now he was just all out crying. "I almost k-killed him!"

Dean's shoulders heaved and he covered his reddening face with his hands, ashamed to be crying like this. He was a grown man, dammit! 

Through his sobs he felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting.

"Dean." Sam's voice was gentle. "Cas is fine. You almost killed him, but you didn't. You didn't let the Mark win in that moment. You let him live."

"It's just so fr-freaking messed up!" Dean cried. "Th-that he could be dead right now if I-I hadn't changed my aim by a-a few in-inches! You could be d-dead right now because of me!"

"Hey, but I'm not. I'm right here."

"B-but Cas isn't!" He knew how stupid and childish that sounded, but all he wanted at the moment was to hear Cas' voice and feel his presence. It would be the biggest comfort he could ask for. 

"Then call him." Sam squeezed his shoulder. "He doesn't sleep anyway. You can ask him to come stay here for a bit."

Dean sucked in a painful breath through his mouth, gave a small nod. Yeah. Yeah, he would do that. 

Sam patted him on the shoulder before removing his hand. "Good, maybe you'll even get the courage to sit down and talk with him instead of having awkward eye sex while I'm in the room."

Dean choked on his next sob, felt himself almost stop crying altogether. He looked at Sam, eyes wide, mouth going dry.

"What?"

"Dean, stop pretending and giving both me and him the he's like a brother bullshit," Sam said with a roll of his eyes and a sigh. "We all know it's a lie."

Dean still didn't know what to say. How could Sam...? He didn't think he'd made it that obvious.

"What?" He sniffled a little.

"Dude, you're so stupid sometimes," Sam commented lightheartedly. "You call him." He began to rise. "I'm going back to bed."

"Wait!" Dean reached out lightning-quick and grabbed at his sleeve. He used his other hand to rub at his eyes, which were stubbornly still dripping despite the much more lighthearted turn the conversation had taken. "Y-you think I should?" He felt suddenly very nervous. He'd never openly admitted his feelings to himself, but Sam apparently already knew and now he wanted him to talk to Cas about it? It made him feel hot all over, like he was a twelve year old with a crush.

"Neither of you are gonna live forever, so just get on with it," Sam said, turning back to him. He pointed a finger at him. "And don't you dare freak out and pull the 'You're like family' card again."

"Okay... but, you don't care?" Dean's nerves were flashing in and out, sometimes overridden by a strange, new sense of confidence.

"That you're both guys, you mean?" Sam clarified. "Hell no. Whatever makes you happy, man."

Dean let his lips slide into a smile, letting go of Sam's sleeve. "Thanks, little bro. Now you go back to bed and I'll call him."

"Finally. I can't believe I have to try to get you laid, not the other way around."

"Oh, no, buddy, you still gotta get laid," Dean pointed out in amusement. "Only if you feel like it of course. Night, Sam."

"Night, Dean." His little brother _winked_ at him before he left and closed the door.

"Son of a-" Dean muttered, blushing furiously. Feeling a mix of giddiness and nerves, Dean reached for his cellphone.


End file.
